Last week I told you a bit about Champagne’s history, and left you at around the 16th/17th century. I was going to try and take you all the way up to the present in this column. I then realised that this would not be possible in 100 words. So I shelved the pot-holed history of Bubbly. Instead I’ll give you a little bit more info about the best thing since sliced bread, toasters, butter knives, tea and honey put together.

It was a difficult time for producers in Champagne when the English took a fancy to this new fangled fizz. You see, it was only during the 17th century that the coal fueled ovens of the English were able to produce stronger glass than the French’s wood fired version. This meant that the early days of Champagne’s popularity were a complete pain in the ass for producers. Bottles regularly exploded, and when this happened more often than not it would set off a chain reaction in the cellar. Some merchants lost up to 90% of the year’s wine due to exploding bottles. Those that had the rather unfortunate job of going down into the cellar had to wear iron masks.

This was what the early days of Champagne were about – on the wine making side anyway – technology having to play catch-up so the wine makers could satisfy demand with fewer risks.

And demand was high. Not only from the English but also locally in France. Louis XV, who reigned in France from 1715 until is death in 1774, was known for his debauched court at Versailles. Champagne was a central part of these parties. He built the first dedicated private dining room at the palace and commissioned one Jean-François de Troy to paint the centerpiece. In 1734 he presented the king with Le déjeuner d’huîtres, or The Oyster Lunch.

Jean-François de Troy (1679-1752) ; Le déjeuner d’huîtres, 1734

I bring up this painting for two reasons. Firstly it was the first painting we know of depicting champagne. Old de Troy was no fool. He knew that to set the right tone in a dining room you have to inspire a little joie de vivre, and what better way than by painting a bunch of gentlemen just back from a hunt, knocking back the bubbly while sliding innumerable oysters down their royal and pampered throats?

The painting also offers a little insight into where the technology of champagne stood at the time. My favourite part of this painting is the cork. Can you see it? If you follow the stares of the gentlemen upwards you will see it in mid flight. This little addition gives the painting a sort of ‘kodak-moment’ quality, which seems to underscore the idea of a party, jollity and the whoop-dee-doo spirit that Champagne inspires. This is comforting to me: almost 220 years ago people were drinking champagne and oysters in pretty much the same way we do today. That unique joy of fizzy wine slipping down your gullet alongside a salty slimy mollusk connects us to the gentlemen of 18th century France. It’s stuff like that that gets me up in the morning.

If we follow the cork’s path back to the bottle, we can learn something about how the bottles were closed in that era. The man holding the bottle with his left hand is holding a knife in his right. The metal cages we are used to on bottles of sparkling wine had not yet been invented. Instead the corks were tied down with pieces of string.

But the biggest difference between how these aristocratic Frenchies enjoyed their bubbles and how we do today can be seen by looking on the table at their glasses. On the front of the table there is a loaf of bread. Next to this there is a glass upside down in a little dish. This was for emptying the glass between sips.

As I said last week Champagne (or any sparkling wines made in the Methode Champenois) get their fizz through a secondary fermentation that happens in the bottle. Fermentation is the consumption of sugars by yeasts, and this produces carbon dioxide and alcohol.

The problem is that when the yeasts have eaten all the sugar and starve to death they don’t magically disappear, but remain behind. A wine full of tiny yeast corpses, if you will. These dead yeast cells are known as the lees. The stuff looks pretty much like ProNutro. In still wine this is easily sorted by letting it all sink to the bottom and then taking off the wine from the top.

As this fermentation was going on inside the bottle for Champagne, there was nowhere for it to go. What they did was simply pour a glass, knock it back, and place their glasses upside down in little bowls waiting for the sludge to clear while having another oyster or playfully slapping a wench on the behind.

It was Madame Clicquot – of the famous Veuve Clicquot – and her cellar master who solved the problem. We have a lot to thank those two for. To ensure that each of their bottles was clear, bright and free from any left over lees, they came up with the simple system of remuage, or riddling. Basically, remuage is the slow turning and lifting of sparkling wine bottles as they mature in bottle. These used to take place on riddling racks, but now can be done by machine.

The bottles are turned and lifted bit by bit until they are standing vertically with their tops pointing at the floor. During this process they are closed not with a cork, but with a crown cap – the same that you will find on beer bottles. By the time the bottle is vertical, all the lees has accumulated in the neck. Keeping it there and swiftly popping off the cap the lees is spat out by the pressure of the CO2 and you are left with a very clean wine either ready to drink or to be corked and aged for longer.

Remuage: the slow Champagne bottle erection

Don’t think that the lees is just some nasty by-product to be got rid off. Oh no, not at all. It is from this yeasty mud that we get a lot of the complexity in Champagne. While the lees is in contact with the wine it imparts flavours through the process of autolysis. If you have ever had a sparkling wine and smelt or tasted bread, brioche, marmite, or some sort of toastyness, you will have experienced the handwork of the lees. And the next time you taste this and see that your wine is clear and bright, say a little prayer of thanks to Madame Clicquot.

I would like to go on and tell you about the wars of champagne, the cunning marketing maneuvers, Champagne Charlie and more. But I think it is time for a break from Champagne. Not drinking it mind you, there’s never a need to stop doing that; just a pause from writing endlessly about the stuff. So that’s enough history for now. Next week I promise something with a few more lolz.